Rebel
by MiraClarinet
Summary: DarkClan was a horrble place for all cats, at least when Claw had his way. I had to stop him! I had to escape! Rated T for mature ideas. Just in case! Story is better then summary I hope!


I slipped almost silently into the darkened undergrowth. My mostly white pelt stood out, but my black patches looked like the shadows of the leaves around me, giving my fur a dappled sunlight look. It helped to blend me in as I crept forward. My paws barely touched the soft leaf cover of the forest floor. I made no noise as I moved. The mouse had no clue, no thought that I was there. I easily got a foxlengths away from it. I pounced forward, claws outstretched and ready to kill. I came short and landed on hard concrete. My legs threatened to buckle beneath me from the weight and pain shot through my body. I winced and watched the mouse scamper away, my legs too aching to move quick enough to catch it. My rumbling stomach reminded me of my lost catch.

"That was pretty good." I shook my head at Hope's praise. She knew as well as I did.

"Don't lie." I mewed under my breath. I stalked to the other side of the room; a large basement in the shell of a twoleg dwelling. Claw had taken the place as his own for a group of cats known as DarkClan. He had recruited any cat wishing to join, telling them lies about how great it would be; how helpful the Clan would be toward each other. None of them knew the fate he had in store. DarkClan was a terrible place. We had to hunt for ourselves at the age of four moons. Many cats died from starvation. Our source of water only came when it rained. A trickle would come in from the broken stairway leading up to the burnt out twoleg dwelling. No cat could jump the gaps to get up, and there was no other known way out.

She-cats underwent a special ceremony at eight moons, one cruel and fatal. We were forced to have kits. We didn't get to choose our mate. No cat did. Claw was the father of all kits. An eight-moon-old she-cat who died giving birth or of starvation, or whose kits died as newborns, was considered untrustworthy and tainted. If she was alive, she was killed. If she died, her kits were killed. Luckily, Claw never noted age or amount of kits, so many of the queens took over dead she-cats kits after their mothers died. Queens had to feed themselves like the rest of the Clan, and sometimes Claw would take what they caught as well.

Prey had to be caught to be eaten. If a cat couldn't catch their own prey, they wouldn't get any. A queen who had just given birth would have to hunt or starve until she had the energy to hunt. Any cat over four moons had to catch to eat. Claw took as much as he wanted, never contributing. He was a good fighter, so nobody questioned him or confronted him. Sometimes, even those who caught didn't eat. My luck was catch something, get it taken by Claw or give secretly to a queen, and end up eating nothing or the tiniest mouse available, normally the babies that younger cats could catch nothing but. Prey was scarce enough. Only half the Clan managed to catch anything, and Claw took half or more.

Tonight I would eat nothing. My one chance at prey had passed. I had let it go. I could see it in Hope's eyes. She knew I would starve. This was the third or fourth night of this. I sighed and flicked my tail, returning to the group of cats glaring at each other as if thinking none could be trusted. We fought to eat; to live. There was no friendship, nothing in kinship but a mother's love, or the tiny spark of pity from a sibling. No love.

"I will share with you." Hope whispered, pushing her pitiful excuse of a mouse toward me. I glanced from it to her to her two tiny kits, shaking my head.

"You, and the kits, need it more then me." I replied. She shook her head, fear and worry glowing obviously in her eyes.

"You will starve. At least take a bite." She mewed quietly. I rolled my eyes but took the smallest bite I could. I felt it slipped emptily into my belly, echoing throughout my body. My stomach growled for more, but I quieted it by rolling into a tiny ball near Hope. She wasn't my mother, but it sure felt like it. She cared about me, loved me and caught me when I fell. She was as much a mother to me as my real mother, who had died giving birth to the smallest bundle nursing at Hope's belly. Hope had taken him to rescue him from certain death. When my mother, Speckles', milk had not come, she had nursed me as well. I was grateful to her, seemingly even then.

"You will be eight moons soon." I wished at that moment I had been asleep. A shiver went down my spine. I knew it, but feared it. I didn't want to have kits. Not yet. I knew I was young. We all knew we were young. Too young. Too many died because of this ceremony. "I wish we could get you out of it." I opened a single eye to glance at Hope. She had rested her head on her paws, her small kits curling up together. The were almost three moons, except Mouse, my brother, but they were skinny. With such little food, Hope had just enough milk to keep them from starving, enough energy to hunt, eat and feed them, nothing more.

"I'll be fine." I lied. Truth was, I was uncertain. Everyone was at my age. We didn't know how much longer we had, how much life we had left in us. I curled up close enough to feel her warmth, and fell into a rough and light sleep. I woke to a call from the middle of the broken stairs. It was Claw. It was time for an eight moon ceremony.

"Heather, Bane, you have reached eight moons. It is time to prove you are worthy of being a DarkClan warrior." I watched with an aching heart as they climbed up the steps reluctantly. I looked away. I didn't want to watch. Mews and yowls of mock excitement pulsed from the toms, but I noticed the she-cats stay silent. It was cruel, what Claw did. "From now on, they will be considered queens. Any special treatment given them will cease. Any tom seen with them will be killed." The two young she-cats trudged to where Hope and I were sitting.

"I'm sorry." I mewed to my friends. They blinked at me, sadness, fear and unknowing flickered in their eyes. I crept into the shadows. Three young mice sat unknowing in the corner. They didn't have a chance. I killed each one, setting two in front of Hope, Bane and Heather and putting the other on the pile, taking a smaller one for myself. Nobody noticed me feeding them. Relief washed through me. I padded back to them.

"Don't get yourself in trouble for us!" Bane hissed in my ear.

"I wasn't caught, was I? Besides, I wasn't just going to let the other two get away. An easy catch, even for me." I snapped back, taking bites out of my mouse. The prey felt warm on my tongue, my belly full for he first time in days. Heather and Bane shared one while Hope ate the other. This was one of the few times in DarkClan where I felt anything but alone. I had two friends, and a mother figure to help me up when I fell. These were the great times, the times I felt content. But there was always a small flicker of fear. A tiny ray of knowing, knowing what would happen, what would become of me. I always pushed it to the back of my mind, but somehow, it always pushed forward again. It told me one thing. I had to get out. I didn't know how, but somehow, I had to escape. There was a way, and I had to find it.


End file.
